Friday Fundraising Fest!

H/T to Katiebird for the Puma & Cocktail!

Ok, Conflucian PUMAs, put on your dancing shoes & get your Clinton Cocktail and dance!

UPDATE: Changed the video, sound quality not the greatest – this one is much better. 

Clip is from Puma Carranza and Rocio on the Latin American version of “Dancing with the Stars” (Baliando con las Estrellas).  Yes, it’s just as cheesy as the US version but hard not to look away. 

Rico and the bouncers are checking for ID and there is a $5.00 cover charge.  You can click on the Just Say No Deal “5 Bux for Hillary” coffee cup on the right hand screen OR click HERE to give our Hillary a debt-free weekend. 

If you don’t have the funds, a good Conflucian will spot you a fiver (please?)

UPDATE:  If you want the Hillary prize-winning t-shirt, you can order HERE.

Rico will be serving drinks in a HOT bicep enhancing V-neck, wowza!   Flo will be checking in words you don’t want to say in front of the kiddies.

 For the more studious minded, I think Maggie Gallager is in a pre-PUMA stage, with her latest opinion piece Obama is a Politician:

 And Obama promises to vastly expand taxpayer obligations for a new and expensive network of benefits at the same time that neither he nor anyone else in Washington — including John McCain — will tell us how to pay for our existing underfunded obligations to senior citizens in Social Security, Medicare and prescription drug benefits. All gain, no pain. That’s Obama’s totally conventional Washington promise to the American people.

¡A bailar!  – Let’s Dance!

 

 

 

Dear Super Delegates: Find an excuse, ANY excuse

SD’s, this message is for you:

You wanna know why PUMAs exist?  It’s because we are f%&*(ing tired of losing every four years.  Seriously.  I’ve been a Democrat since the 60’s when my earliest memory consists of screaming, “it’s a free country!  I can say whatever I want!” across the playground.  But in all the years I have been elegible to vote, I’ve bet on the winner exactly twice, in 1992 and 1996.  Yep, in all of my adult life, I have seen the DNC and my party squander one opportunity after another.  First there was the competent but brutally honest Mondale.  Then there was the oddly unemotional, dweeby Dukakis.  I actually liked Gore, if not his rhetorical style.  Then came Kerry, who seemed like the honest Abe Lincoln sort, minus the brilliant mind.

In each case, the DNC seems to get caught off guard.  The RNC develops some ingenious wedge issue, points out some stupid little idiosyncracy of the candidate and voile!  $100 million later, the Democratic candidate is toast and we’re stuck with another Republican, raiding and pillaging his way through the treasury.

Friday, They say “He’s Electable,” We say, “Not”

A couple of days ago my husband came tearing out of the bedroom saying that someone on TV said that she was a P.U.M.A. and that Obama was “Unelectable, Unqualified and Illegitimate.” These three things (he said she said) that meant Obama was going to lose the election if the Democrats give Obama the nomination.

That phrase, “Unelectable, Unqualified and Illegitimate,” has stayed with me ever since. It pulses through my mind with nearly every heartbeat. And I wonder sometimes why no one else can hear it. I spent a day with my parents (Dad a PUMA, Mom a TEPID) and an Obama supporting sister. And I swear the phrase was reverberating so loudly in my mind, I kept expecting her to tell me to shut up.

Not that she would. She’s not that sort of sister.

When I think of “electability” I always think of John Kerry and Howard Dean. I remember September of 2002 when my mom asked me who I was supporting for President (we have the sort of family where that question is often asked two years before an election.) I said I didn’t know but that I wasn’t thrilled about supporting John Kerry. She said what about the Governor of Vermont — she heard he was interested. Brainiac that I am I said, “Mom, I’m NOT supporting some Governor of Vermont for President. THAT’s just impossible!” And OH, how I wish I’d stuck with that feeling.